


Biting the Bullet

by orphan_account



Category: Final Fantasy XIII, Final Fantasy XIII Series, Final Fantasy XIII-2, Lightning Returns: Final Fantasy XIII
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-04 22:25:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14030133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "This shouldn't be a 'bite the bullet' sort of situation, Claire." Hoperai. Set post-LR in the New World. Adult Hope.





	Biting the Bullet

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this on FFN months ago. I thought I might as well upload it here too.

It was late, or the stars made it feel that way. Night had descended far too hard and fast for Claire to keep track of it, and at 8 pm it already looked like it should have been hours later. But that was the nature of hospitals – with their buzzing fluorescent and gleaming tile floors. Everything was always so bright and so loud that it was dizzying, and it made it impossible to keep track of the time like a normal person might outside of the scrubbed and sterilized walls. Even glancing at a watch felt pointless, and the sunlight, when glimpsed outside the cafeteria windows – had been jarring.

They were not even in the hospital for anything so dire as a death or a sickness. It was actually a happy occasion. Serah had just given birth to her third child – a boy, finally – exactly what she had been hoping for. There had been two girls in a row, and Claire couldn't even begin to guess how many texts she received on a daily basis with her sister reminding her how she hoped it would be a boy, how she would love the baby no matter what but she really,  _really_ wanted a little boy. And now Claire could anticipate a whole new saga of updates for her near future – countless worries about the newest little Villiers.

Snow, of course, was the one most ecstatic about his success in producing a boy at last. He had jovially pulled Hope aside and relayed to him exactly how glad he was to be free of 'household politics'. Now he had a  _boy_  on his side, he said while thumping his chest and looking a bit too puffed up - like he might blow away at any given moment. Claire wanted to deflate his bubble, to remind him that he was technically still outnumbered, three to two. Women still held the majority in his life.

But she didn't, for once, jump on the opportunity to make Snow feel stupid. He'd figure it out soon enough. Poor delusional guy.

When they arrived home their lock had stuck again, and it took Claire a full minute to struggle with her keys and force the warped wooden door free of its frame. It swung open when her shoulder collided with the wood, long ago slathered with soft yellow paint that was now peeling in unattractive curls. There wasn't a lot to be said for her and Hope's humble flat – that was for sure. It was small, but it was home. A bedroom, a guest room, kitchen, and bathroom. Neither were fancy people so it fits them just fine. There were more important things in life than material things, of that they both knew in this lifetime and another.

She started taking off her shoes as soon as she felt her feet hit the indoor welcome mat. She lifted one foot up and then the other, slipping off her practical and comfortable flats and tossing them into a corner. She'd get them in the morning. Or Hope would.

Serah,  _her_ little Serah, had been in labor for a full ten hours. And Claire had waited with Hope and Snow that entire time – waiting for her to push out the child that they had all been waiting with such anxiety to meet. Serah had named him Maximilian before they had even found out definitively that the baby was a boy. And she had jotted it down on the name certificate so quickly that Claire felt the urge to make her double-check the spelling.

But in the end, it had all been worth it. Claire had gotten to hold the tiny bundle and coo over him appropriately. (Except Claire didn't coo and if anyone ever said she did they'd be lying.) Hope had done the same – an entire forty-five seconds before passing the newborn off like a hot potato to the nearest relative. And so it went. The baby got to circle the room – no word yet on whether or not Snow had gotten a chance to actually hold his own child – as Claire had grabbed Hope's arm, all but dragging him out of the hospital.

She loved her sister. And she loved her nieces and new nephew. But she really, really couldn't stand hospitals. And she needed to be home – exhaustion was settling fast and she knew that if she didn't sit down and eat something more than a handful of cafeteria fries, she was going to be in trouble.

That wasn't really all of it. In truth, Claire had been struggling with something a little bit stronger than just her general distastes for hospitals. Holding little Max in her arms, watching his little pudgy face scrunch up when she touched him, ignited a fire that fueled a series of  _thoughts_  that she figured she had long laid to rest. But holding Serah's baby had done something to her. It didn't seem fair because Serah had three beautiful, happy children, and Claire…

Claire was here. And in all truth she was thankful to be here, to be alive. As opposed to...Well, she was here, with Hope. And that was all she needed, right? That was all she should think to ask for. She knew what was gnawing at the back of her brain and what wasn't willing to let it go. But she wasn't willing to voice it, either. She and Hope talked all of the time. But she knew that in the face of difficult questions that could produce…answers she wasn't sure she wanted to hear, that the conversation could get tense.

She didn't even finish her thought. Hope leaned over and grabbed her shoulder, giving it an affectionate squeeze before circling his arm around her, grabbing a cup of coffee he had left on the table and moving to dump it out in the sink before rinsing it out.

"Are you all right?" Claire asked, which made it sound like his participation in chores rendered her instantly suspicious, which was far from the case. Hope did most of the chores.

Hope nodded, rubbing his face.

"I'm fine," he said. "I'm just really tired, you know? I think I'm going to go to bed."

"Oh…" Claire glanced at the laptop on the kitchen table. It was open, and its screen was in sleep mode – reflecting the yellow kitchen light in a thousand smudged fingerprints that were scattered over the dark screen. "Aren't you going to check your work emails?"

"Not tonight. I will do it tomorrow." Hope started to stretch, walking past her as he did so. One hand reached out, and he went to run his fingers affectionately through her hair. Claire froze, her hand striking out and grasping his sleeve before he could get very far. Hope paused, lifting his eyebrows as he did a quarter-turn to regard her.

"I want one," she let the words just spill out. She didn't even take a breath to consider them at all. She searched his face, looking for any sign of what she already predicted might be there – panic, anger, grief – there was nothing like that. Maybe he hadn't heard her.

"What?" He yawned, stretching again and pulling his arm free of her grip.  _Of course_ , he hadn't been paying attention.

Sometimes she really did want to smack him.

Whenever she got angry she felt a lot unlike Claire and more like Lightning.

"I…would like  _one_ ," she said again. This was infuriating. She couldn't feel less understood and with Hope, that was a rarity, but frustrating nonetheless. It didn't help that she was having trouble spitting out her words. It was like everything was just built up and stuck in her throat, her chest. She wanted to scream, but that wasn't going to help anything. This time she was just hoping to be understood past his yawn.

Hope tilted his chin to look down at her. He was too tired to notice, but there was an uncharacteristic pink blush setting fire to her cheeks, and she kept her gaze purposefully downward. Riveted to the floor as if there was something interesting she could not get past. At the very least, he might have noticed, but he was too tired to care. And he valued life too much – he would never say something like that to her face.

"Oh?" It was all he had to offer, his feigned interest. He really was just too tired. He yawned again, wider this time, the hinges on his jaw popping.

Claire gave him a harrowing look.

"Oh, no," he muttered. One quirk of those thin, arched eyebrows was all he needed in order to know exactly when and how he messed up. "Don't give me that look...I know that too well. It's that  _'I hate everything you have ever touched'_  sort of look. You should really patent that, you know."

She didn't say anything, refused to respond to his good-natured ribbing. She just pressed her lips together, tightened her jaw. He sighed again. That look wasn't a good sign.

"I have a feeling if I even try to sleep now I'll wake up dead," he said, but he was clearly not being as amusing as he thought. He cleared his throat, folding his arms. "Well, what's the matter?" He asked again, suddenly spreading his arms in a slightly agitated fashion when the silence lingered for a little longer than he would have liked.

"Nothing," she snapped. She knew she was being unreasonable, and she didn't care. "Nothing, all right! It's nothing, Hope. Go to bed."

She was shutting down. Shutting him out. She had made so many strives over the past few years in the New World but she still had her hangups. She was good at shutting people down, shutting him down when she wanted to be. He recognized these steps – he didn't want to go down this path, especially not tonight. He was exhausted down to the bone and he had been hoping that he could just strip off his coat and most of his clothing and just collapse into bed.

" _Nothing_ …Don't do that to me. It's never  _nothing_  when you say it is. And I just want to help…come on…" he rubbed his face, grinding his fingers into the corners of his eyes.

She didn't respond.

"I didn't want to do this," he said, almost muttering it to himself more than he said it out loud to her. "I didn't want to fight. I thought we were past this, Light," the old nickname tumbled from his lips without a care. Only he was allowed to call her Lightning and even he did it sparingly. "You know I just…you're shutting down on me again! You think I can't tell but I can, I've learned how. And you know you're doing it, and I can't handle that so you may as well tell me what is wrong."

"I'm not shutting down." She hissed through her teeth. "You are so exhausted, yeah? Go to bed. I'm not going to have this conversation."

And she wasn't. She wasn't going to do this with him now. Everything was setting her even more on edge, and it was going to make this conversation even more difficult. Maybe it wasn't a conversation they should be having at all...

"And you don't think that just by saying so you're shutting me out?" He put his hands up in the air. "You know, it wouldn't kill you to tell me what is on your mind for once, instead of playing these guessing games, this round of 20 questions you have in your head where I don't know what to do because the rules are different each time…!" The moment the words left his mouth Hope visibly flinched. He knew how to get through to her and this was certainly not it.

As he expected she met him with cool fire. "Give me a break!" Her voice started deathly calm but her eyes hot. If he wanted to fight, that was fine. She could fight back just as hard. "Guessing games? Mind games? Is that what I'm playing? It's always my fault, isn't it Hope? Everything then and everything now is and was always my fault."

And with the mentioning of the past old world, he was now completely one hundred percent awake. She had certainly managed to grab his attention. He wasn't going to bed now no matter what. Claire never spoke of the Old World unless something particularly had her intensely stressed.

"What is it then," he whined, desperation creeping into his voice. He just wanted to help. This time more gently, "Just tell me what the problem is in a nutshell! I can't fix it. I'm good at fixing things. But I can't unless I know what is going on and…"

She kept her mouth shut. The silence was deafening.

"What is it? What? Just tell me  _what_  it is!" He just kept asking. He just kept saying it. He repeated the word  _what_  so many times that he was starting to sound like a toddler.  _What do you want? What can I do to fix it? What is so important that it has you so upset? What, what, what?_

" _What_!" She threw the word back at him. He had said it so many times now that it had ceased to lose all meaning. "What, what, what! You sound like a toddler, Hope!  _A child!"_

_A child._

It slammed into her. It was the realization, even if she had known that was what it was this whole time. She couldn't have brought herself to admit it. But saying it out loud…

She felt dizzy. Her head spun and she could feel heat flush her face. She felt like her skin was on fire, but on the surface, it was really just a blush. A faint scarlet flare that complimented her pale winter skin very well.

"Claire?" He reached out, his hand stopping mid-air, extended to touch her. She took a deep, shivering breath and her whole body seemed to shudder with it. He sounded concerned. She hated when he sounded that way when he got that look on his face that made it sound like she had shed her skin and transformed into some helpless little girl right before his piercing green eyes.

"A child," she repeated, and she wrapped her arms around herself. She held herself tightly, looking up at him – her eyes were as wide and round, shiny like glass from the unshed tears. "I want a  _baby_."

There it was. She dropped that bomb on him and then took a step back, waiting to see how it would land – how he would react. Her voice was crystal clear, free of the hesitation that had been present only minutes before. Even though her face was still flushed and her eyes were still rimmed with red, she shed no tears. She spoke very clearly, precisely, she was going to make certain there was no mistake.

She wanted a child.

It felt almost freeing to say out loud.

"…Oh," the word fell, clunky, from his mouth and hit the ground like lead. She could almost hear that very heavy, very derisive 'oh' being pushed out by his tongue, clanging against the floor.

She couldn't believe that was his first reaction – but then again, this was an old argument. They had never tried to have kids, but they had opened up the floor for conversation – they had talked on and off about maybe, maybe  _one day –_ one day they would have children. One day they would be the parents taking the kids and the dog to the park, watching them swing on swings and building castles in the sandbox. Maybe. It seemed ridiculous to her, too often, to talk about that sort of thing with him. The idea of her actually being a mother seemed ridiculous to her. And even if it did happen all Claire could think was the pain and heartache and hard work that would go into raising a child.

That and, it was just that… Hope's vision was different from hers.

Hope always phrased it like a dream. Like the opening of an inspirational movie. He said he wanted to have a family of his own, one day, and Claire's retaliation was always the same. She had Serah, Snow, their kids and their friends. Hope didn't get it, and she was afraid that he never would.

She wasn't even sure that Hope knew what having a child would entail. He didn't have a younger sibling to care for once upon a time like she had. And not just children, but babies? Babies were so much work. Hope was ready for  _kids –_ she didn't know if he could handle a  _baby._ His work already had him tied up more often than not.

"You think you are ready?" Hope asked warily. It wasn't that he was opposed to the idea. Not at all, but Claire seemed – unsure of herself still. He didn't want to push her too far in either direction and have it backfire. On one hand, she knew how much he wanted a family. On the other hand, she had kept the dream at arm's length – much in the same place, she kept him most of the time when she was feeling upset. He didn't want to make her feel like he wasn't taking this seriously. But he had no idea how to approach this topic with her anymore. She was very good at getting angry, but not so good at having a constructive conversation.

She scowled for a moment, clenching her jaw and turning her head away. She sucked in another breath, shredding it through her teeth before she sighed. Her shoulders sagged, and she seemed to wilt in front of him. He wanted to reach out and pull her into his arms, but he didn't see that going over well when she was in this mood in particular.

"No," she said. "But I don't know if I ever will be. Ever can be. So I figured that it is time regardless of that. We have to bite the bullet at some point."

He deflated. He could feel it. It was like someone had pulled out a cork from the middle of his chest and all of the air was escaping. He let out a breath he didn't even know he had been holding. He licked his lips. He wasn't sure if he was ready to fight her on this.

"I don't…" he paused, trying to figure out exactly what he was going to say, and trying to be as tactful as possible. "I don't think that having a baby is a  _bite the bullet_  type of situation, you know?"

She bristled. He could see her straight her shoulders as she rolled them back and lifted her chin, glowering at him like a soldier. "Look, I am not taking this lightly, and neither should you. It takes a lot to be able to say the things to you that I am, especially after you accuse me of shutting you out and shutting down. So here I am, not shutting down and willing to talk to you about everything I am feeling. And I will not have you treat me like I am a  _child._ "

He flinched, taking a step back without even realizing that that was what he was doing. All of these years…after all of this time, she was still intimidating when she was angry.

She must have seen him draw back. She sighed and stepped closer, closing the distance between them, her voice dropping a little, soothing as she held out her hand.

"I don't mean for it to sound that way," she said, not quite sure if it was the whole truth. She hadn't meant to scare him, she was sure of that. But saying it aloud would have ruined the last of his manly pride for the evening. "You know that I don't mean to blow up at you. It's hard, sometimes. I know I'm can be too much at times. But listen, I am older, and I have a good deal more experience. I know 'older and wiser' is a bit of a tired saying, but it is applicable. Especially to us, right now." She paused, letting her words settle for a moment, before she added, "I know very well that this isn't something to just play around with. You should give me more credit, even if you are a  _genius."_

The last words didn't sound so much complimentary as they were just stating a fact. Hope wasn't sure how to feel. He raked his hand through his silver hair, rubbing the back of his skull as he looked at her, wondering exactly how much of a nervous schoolboy he looked. Then his mind darted in another direction.

"You know," he couldn't even stop the words. As much as he wanted to, as much as he knew he would regret them, they were already flinging their way out of his mouth. "Technically, I am older, and…"

She groaned, cutting him off, rolling her eyes so far back at his statement that they flashed the whites. " _Stop_ ," she said, the hand that had reached out to comfort him was now flat mid-air like she had it pressed up against a wall. "Stop, please. If you love me, you won't bring up this argument again. I have heard it a thousand times before and it gives me a damn headache each time."

 _If you love me._  That was peculiar coming from her.

Of course, he loved her. He never, ever wanted her to doubt that. Even when they were in the throes of a heated argument, he loved her. Back centuries ago, in a different world, he loved her. He wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and tell her it was all going to be okay. He never wanted her to think that he didn't care…

He was tired of arguing.

Hope felt a smile tug at his lips. He wasn't sure what it was – maybe it was her expression when she rolled her eyes at him like that. She saw him smile and a similar expression sprang instantly to her mouth. They were smiling at each other, and the tension relaxed its shoulders, easing up some in a way that finally made the fist in his stomach unclench.

He hated arguing with her. He hated it when things got heated. He wanted her to be happy, always, he never wanted to think for one second that he might be responsible for her unhappiness. To see her smiling again, even if it was just her secretly laughing at his stupidity, was fine by him.

The smile faded only a bit as she folded her arms and gave him that sharp, scrutinizing look. That look used to worry him, now he knew it mostly meant she was considering her words carefully. Or that she wanted to see his reaction; he was starting to feel a little weighed and measured.

"I haven't been taking my pills for over a week now," she said. She was definitely watching his face. He tried to fight his own expressions, tried to keep himself calm and passive so that she would find no fault in his eyes before he managed to get his clumsy tongue to spit out words.

"So," he said carefully, "you have been…thinking about this for a while?"

"A little while, yes." She confirmed softly, a slight nod of her head. Her eyes flickered down to the floor, and she bit the corner of her lip, worrying it. She did not look like the woman he was used to. This woman was softer, unsure.

"I want a baby," he said softly. "I want a baby so badly. I don't think I can tell you how many times I have sat at the kitchen table and just stared at nothing while I was thinking about it. I would be so happy if I could just have a little boy or a little girl – whichever it ends up being doesn't matter so much, to me. I just want to be able to raise a child together. To have something special that we can both  _love_  together. It's just, I've had my doubts of course, because I'm not sure if…" he paused, trying to sort out his words before he said them, still. One verbal misstep could render this a miserable night for them both. He didn't want to end up sleeping alone or worse – on the couch. She was the type to make him do that after a particularly nasty argument. He didn't want that to be the direction this was headed in.

"I'm just, you know, not sure if you're  _really_  ready. I want to believe that you are because I know you want it too, maybe not in the same way as me or for the same reasons but – we do both want this, I know. I guess I'm just… I want to be sure that this is what you want." Hope finished.

She didn't say anything for a full minute. The dark silence stretching between them - not angry or particularly heavy, just there– was getting to him. He had to do something else. He had to give her an out, at the very least. He didn't want her to think that everything she had just said was a solid commitment. It was still in the discussion stages, after all.

"We aren't married," he reminded her.

He let the statement sit there. It was an opportunity. Claire could pick it up and run with it if she chose. This would be the perfect reason, if she needed one, to back out of this moment – this life-changing pivotal decision that was dangling just within their reach. She swallowed, hard, and he could barely see the warring expressions on her face.

Claire was scared out of her mind. She couldn't even bring herself to say it. Her chest felt tight and, briefly, it was like she couldn't breathe. She was nervous, but his words were not salvation. They were not presented as her reason to pick up and walk away. If anything, it spurred her determination. She was not the type of person to let anyone, not even an entire societal norm, make her decisions for her.

Her doubt seemed to evaporate in the fire of her new found determination. She quirked a strawberry pink eyebrow, tilting her head a little bit and pursing her lips as if she was trying to keep from laughing aloud. "So?" That surprised him. "It isn't like we have ever done…anything traditionally."

Hope chuckled, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "Yeah," he agreed. "Yeah…you don't need to say that twice."

"We have always been different," she continued to remind him. "We have never been like other couples." And the way her blue eyes lit up told him that she did not find this a bad thing.

"We are nothing like Serah and Snow," she continued, "As much as I love them - well, Serah- and I think they are good together, I guess – but we just don't fit that mold, we never have and we never will. And that's okay, I don't think we would like it if we tried." A moment's though passed and then, " _I_  don't need a marriage certificate to prove how much I love you."

Hope beamed at her words. "That's most certainly true," Hope said slowly, softly. He wasn't even sure that his voice was audible. It didn't feel like it was really happening. There had to be something else. Any further test he had to pass, or any further argument he had to dodge. Was this really what Claire wanted? How could he ever really be sure?

He had to trust her; that was the only option. But blind faith, blind faith made his stomach clench again.

Claire smirked, reaching out to touch his shoulder, sliding her hand up and down his forearm in a comforting gesture. "Hope," she said quietly. "You have been tagging behind me like a big dewy-eyed puppy since you were a  _kid_. Nothing is going to change between us." She leaned against his chest. "We are a  _team._  We are partners."

That little, amazing word echoed in his head.  _Partners._

It was a familiar word, and for some reason its effect was magic. The tension was gone – swept up, and his chest was no longer as tight as it had been. His doubts were disappearing faster than he could recall them all to name them. He brought his emerald green eyes up to meet her stormy sapphire gaze, feeling a little bit like a child still, in that moment. He needed her arms. He wanted to hold her and not consider letting her go until dawn started chasing away the stars that had just started to pop up.

He wanted it to be done. He wanted the matter to be settled, here, so they could move on, move forward…but he had to make it clear. He had to have that one, final word of affirmation.

"I just have to be sure," he said, and his voice was laden with pleading – hoping she would understand what his intentions were and bear with him. "I don't want you to regret anything about this. Anything.  _Ever_."

She nodded, ready to hear what he was going to ask. He was always looking out for her. Even when he was too small, too weak to even look out for himself. He was perfect that way. She loved that about him.

"Its just one more question," why couldn't he just ask? He was having such a hard time pushing it out. "And I won't ask you if you are ready…well," he paused. "All right. I'll ask this, instead. Are you  _sure_  you want to  _try_?"

She stared at him for a long moment. In that moment, as soon as the question left his lips, she felt no hesitation. There was no longer anything sitting on her conscience that would keep her from doing this.

Claire slipped her arms around Hope's neck, cradling her hands against the back of his head. He waited for her response with baited breath, she could hear his shallow breathing and see the clouds forming in his otherwise clear vision. He was beginning to doubt, maybe just a little. Her lack of an immediate 'yes' or 'no' was bringing it all back.

She smiled at him and pushed on the back of his head. Dragging him closer, she pressed her lips to his, sealing the moment with a passionate kiss. His own hand going to the back of her neck, holding her close to him as he returned it. He opened his mouth for her, but her tongue only flickered at the entrance – teasing him a little. He smiled against her mouth, and when the kiss broke – she pulled away just enough so that she could smile. She was still close enough that he could feel the movement.

"Very sure," she breathed against his lips. "Very,  _very_  sure."

He swallowed hard. She laughed softly underneath her breath and turned, reaching behind her to take hold of his hand. He slipped his fingers into hers and she squeezed his grip, leading him back down the narrow hallway and into their bedroom.

Like the rest of their home, it was modest by most standards, but it was kept painstakingly neat. Hope was something of a clean freak and Claire let him have at it. She couldn't care less so long as everything in the house was functional and she knew where to find her toothbrush in the morning.

She shut the door behind them and squeezed his hand again before breaking apart from his grip. She lifted her own fingers and hit the light switch that was by the door frame, casting the room into darkness. She felt his arms slide around her shoulders as he found her again, even in the inky blackness, and pressed his lips against her neck. She closed her eyes and sighed contentedly, turning her face to the side so that he could kiss further up. She was going to put everything she had into this moment. It counted for more than just another night of passion – it was their first step. And it was a seal on their bond, on their agreement – they were going to do this, they were going to commit.

Butterflies were in her stomach as she turned to face Hope, and she moved his kiss back up to her lips. She could feel his hands in her hair, working their way over her scalp, a gentle massage that wrapped strands of her pink hair around his fingers. He pulled a little and she gasped, nuzzling his neck, sliding her hands over his shoulders to rest on top of them again. He put his hands on her waist, lifting her up, and she wrapped her legs around his hips. It was almost impossible for him to walk that way, also in the dark, and he staged towards the bed. She laughed giddily when he did so, kissing his cheek, his forehead, whatever she could reach while he carried her towards the bed. She already felt warm, happy, thrilled when he set her down. She kissed him again.

She was ready.

* * *

The ceiling light was back on, and so was the fan. They should never have stopped running the fan - everything always got so hot and sticky without it.

Claire watched the shadow of the fan blades as they whirred across the ceiling, casting long gray specters against the stark white plaster. The fan was vibrating a little with the force, and the chain was clanking against the light bulb, a steady rhythm to match her thoughts. They were all moving through her head at once, flashing colors and pictures and voices. Some of them were terrifying. Some of them were dark, ugly thoughts about what all of this could be if it took a sudden dip for the worst.

She couldn't think about that. She had to focus on the good. She had to think about choosing baby clothes, about what it would be like to hold the child in her arms – the very sweet, precious, innocent thing that she and Hope created  _together._  She thought about how Hope would be as a father – random things that she was sure no one else considered when they laid in bed. The thoughts made her smile softly. There were a thousand thoughts and scenarios flitting through her brain, bouncing off the walls of her skull too exciting to be contained. Her heart had skipped several beats. Her stomach was fluttering so that she could barely keep herself contained.

She felt his lips brush against her toned stomach and she jumped a little bit, taken aback by surprise. She looked down and Hope was leaning over her, his hand resting on her stomach, and he smiled up at her.

He pursed his lips and kissed her belly again. "For luck," he said, and waggled his eyebrows. Claire narrowed her eyes, reaching down to swat his shoulder.

"Don't do that!" She groaned. "Its creepy."

Hope laughed. "Sorry," he grinned sheepishly, moving so that he could settle back down next to her again. He slipped his arms underneath her and motioned to pull her into his embrace. Claire accommodated, wiggling until she was spooned up against his body. He rested his hands on her stomach, and she sighed happily, putting her own hands on top of his as she began to drift off.

Then there was blessed, peaceful silence. Nothing but the whirring of the fan. Sleep was taking over quickly. She could already feel its welcome heaviness settling onto her closed eyelids…

"Hey," Hope spoke suddenly. She would have been happy to ignore him if that was all he was going to say and let sleep have its way. But he shook her shoulder a little bit, as if he could tell she was drifting off but he had something important to ask. She opened her eyes to narrow slits, making a noncommittal noise to let him know she was paying attention.

"I was just wondering," he said slowly, "If you think that maybe this was the purpose of our 'second chance'?"

Eyes opening all the way she looked at him oddly. She moved until she was in a better position to see him. She cocked her eyebrow at him again, that disdainful little lift.

He was blushing. His whole face was deep garnet red. He was already shaking his head. "Not  _this,_ " Hope said, gesturing towards the entanglement of their naked forms. "I mean…more along the lines of the kids. You know, Sazh's boy, Serah and Snow's kids…and ours. We have always thought this second chance at happy, normal lives was our reward for...everything, but…maybe it isn't. Or, maybe it isn't just for us so much as it is for…"

"Hope," she cut him off. She could have sworn his face was turning purple from lack of oxygen as he rambled.

"Yes?" He asked, somewhat timidly.

"You talk too much," she smirked, rolling her eyes a little at him, playfully.

"I know," he laughed. It sounded more nervous than he actually felt. "Yeah…I know. You love it about me, though. I know you do." He said kissing her bare shoulder. "But really, I'm curious. What do you think? I want to know, Light."

Claire bit her lip, a habit, as she considered the question. It was heavy – too heavy for her worn-out brain. It came loaded with a hundred interesting implications and questions of kismet and chance. It made her feel…strange. Anxious. Like they were still pawns of some god somewhere.

"I don't know how I feel about that question," she said, keeping her voice low. "What if it isn't about that at all, Hope?" She knew Hope wanted to disagree but before he could she posed another question, one more pressing on her mind, "And what if something happens, something bad? What if I'm a terrible mother?"

"Nothing bad will happen." He said with more conviction than anyone should possibly have. "And you  _won't_  be a terrible mother," he was quick to add. His voice passionate.

"You don't really know that." She pressed. "What if I am? And what if something happens to the baby? That is possible, you know. And what if… what if…" Too many  _what ifs._  She could feel a headache coming on, building up in her temples, making them throb. She could feel it behind her eyes, and suddenly even the light from the ceiling fan was too much. She closed her eyes against the light, swallowing and taking a deep breath. She had to push the feelings down.

Deep down. Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

"Okay, fine. What  _if,_ " he seemed to concede to her fears as he walked his fingers up over the curve of her shoulder, but at the last moment he said, "...It is as I said? A second chance, but not for us?"

She sighed. She found his idea not as comforting as he did but anything was better than these torrent of fears pulsing through her. "Maybe, Hope. Maybe."

He let out a breath of his own, content to have that answer, even as little of one as it was. He turned around in her arms, pushing himself closer to her. She opened her arms up for him. Dork. He always did enjoy being the little spoon. He was good at it. And she liked feeling him in her arms as well as the opposite, sometimes.

"Light?"

"Hm?"

"I promise. Everything will be fine. Everything will be more than fine. Know why? Because we are partners. And together we can do anything."

Facing away from her, Hope didn't see Claire's lips as they twitched with a smile.

 _Partners_. There that magic word was again.

Though her anxiety and fears didn't completely dissolve she did feel them wane considerably.

Claire nuzzled the back of his neck, taking a deep breath and inhaling the scent of his hair as she nudged the back of his skull with her nose. "I'm still a little nervous... but I do know one thing," she whispered. "One thing if nothing else."

"What's that?" Hope asked, his voice heavy with the sleep that she had felt only minutes ago when he brought it all up again.

"If this baby turns out half as curious and as…" she paused, biting the corner of her lip as she searched for the right word. "…Curious as you…then I will have gray hairs by the time I am thirty."

Hope laughed. She tightened her arms around him in a hug and he pushed himself closer to her. He rolled back around in her arms, turning to face her, looking up. His eyes were shining. She loved the way they looked when he wore that expression – his mirth made his eyes so bright and so ethereally green.

Hope reached up, pulling his fingers down her cheek to stroke it. He leaned in as close as he could and brushed his lips over hers, pressing them closer into a full kiss.

"I love you," he said lightly. "And I will still love you, beautiful gray hairs and all."

She pursed her lips and flicked his forehead. "Dork," she smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: When I was originally writing this story I intended for it to be my breakthrough into the world of smut. In the end, I thought this story was too soft and uwu for that, so I scrapped the idea. However, later I did venture into smut with a NieR:Automata story, so all is well that ends well lol


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